The Leader's Origin
by Pure Gamer
Summary: I was an aspiring trainer with my best friend Rayne by my side. We were inseparable until we were tragically torn apart, but that was before the deadly guard force of Callousen enveloped my life in ways I'll never forget. Soon, I learned that Sunyshore wasn't the place I needed to escape from, but it was too late. I was trapped, but ready to face my boss, Champion Lea.
1. Prologue

The Leader's Origin

* * *

 _Prologue_

 _Welcome to the Shadows_

The flat screen TV was a nice addition, _I think to myself, as I sink into a large recliner. I point the remote at the TV and it blinks to life in perfect high definition._

 _"Tonight," the anchorman says, "we have the Special Report on Champion Volkner Parley, the Prodigy of Sinnoh, the Phenomenon of The Ages, the only trainer to ever beat all eight gyms, the Elites, and become the Champion in a week – and right out of Trainer School, no less!"_

 _"Yes, he truly is the greatest trainer of all time. And his trusty companion is the strongest Pikachu in existence – he didn't even need another Pokémon! This Volkner has really taken the world by storm, and we all think he is the best – and most handsome – Champion we could ever have."_

My mind snapped back into reality. Unfortunately.

Alas, I'm not sitting in the Sinnoh League Building watching a report on my awesome Champion abilities. Instead, I'm sitting in a hard desk that seemed too small for me, and wishing that I was literally anywhere else.

Birdbrain, as I so lovingly called my teacher, squawked at the front of the classroom. I had been stuck with her for about three years longer than I should have been, and that made me her favorite pupil. Just kidding, that made me her least favorite and I constantly regret my existence because of it. Nevertheless, this will be my final year under her ghastly, old wing. I was tired of repeating my graduating year and quickly becoming the oldest in Trainer School – oldest by a lot, actually – and this time, I had gotten it right. I was passing my exams with flying colors and was right on track to receive my official certificate and then I, in the eyes of Sunyshore law, can practice Pokémon battling and training.

However, that was still a few weeks away, and for now, I was seated next to my younger brother in a class filled with ten-through-thirteen-year-olds learning about Type Abilities. And I, being the mature age of fifteen, sat up in my chair and focused on the chalkboard ahead, ready to fill my brain with knowledge and ultimately get out of this school for good.

"…That's compatible with most Flying Types, but not all." Birdbrain wrote 'Flying' under 'Egg Type.' "Tangled Feet is a rare ability, however. This was originally found in a Pidgey and then found in a Chatot." She wrote 'Tangled Feet' under 'Ability.' "Keen Eye is a common ability, it's found in large hunting Flying Types as well as a few very smart small hunters. Hoothoot, for example."

Okay, that was enough of that. I cracked my knuckles on the desk in front of me and looked around. The classroom hadn't changed in the three years that I've repeated this class. Everything was bland-toned, the posters on the walls were covered in so much dust that I couldn't tell which Pokémon was on it, and of course Birdbrain was still the same, down to the clothing, hairstyle and everything. Although, somehow, she had aged about twelve years in a three-year timespan. It was remarkable, really. She gained wrinkles and lost hair overnight. I imagine scientists are looking deeply into it.

Realizing I was staring directly into her deep face crevices, I looked away and out the window. It was raining, I noticed. Rain was usual for Sunyshore. The storms were quick and painless, only rarely we get a hurricane, and when we do we're well-prepared for it. From here, I could see the shoreline and the ocean. The waves were big due to the storm. They were splashing and breaking upon the large boulders that cased the east side of Sunyshore. The blue, foamy waves looked like giant mouths trying to devour the boulders. In the distance, I saw a lone fishing boat lingering out at sea, seemingly caught in the middle of the storm. Luckily, this boat was safe from the hungry-looking waves.

"Volkner, are you even paying attention?" Birdbrain asked.

Attempting to appear appalled that she would even question me, I looked at her and said, in the sweetest voice I could, "Why yes, Miss Karp."

Birdbrain pursed her lips and gave me her famous death glare, clearly not buying it. "You disrupt the class when you don't pay attention."

"It seems to me like you're the one disrupting the class now, Miss Karp, for I am paying attention," I replied, again, in my nicest and least sarcastic voice.

Birdbrain scowled and huffed, she couldn't deny what I said. A few of my classmates giggled, and she glared at me harder. "You better be paying attention. Exams are coming up," she said through gritted teeth. She turned back to the chalkboard and continued her squawking.

My brother, Fyn, elbowed my side and leaned closer to me. "Do you have to make Miss Karp mad every day?" he asked.

"I consider it my daily mission. It makes school a little more fun, since she's so easy to pick on," I winked and grinned at him as he shook his head and suppressed a smile. Although it was embarrassing to be in class with my _younger_ brother, it was fun to make him laugh in class.

The dismissal bell rang, and I sprang up out of my desk. Thankfully, this was the last class of the day and I was free from the prison called school. Ignoring Birdbrain, I grabbed my mostly empty backpack and scurried for the door. She was still giving out the homework assignment, and her voice went up to a yell as I passed her, a failed attempt at getting me to listen. Her mistake was the fact she wasn't yelling a threat to me, only the homework. Why would I listen to that?

Barging through the classroom door, sprinting down the hallway, and opening the double-doors that lead to the happy sunbeams welcoming me back to the outside world was my semi-daily routine. And, despite what it may seem like, it was rewarding. Beach weather, even though it's all I've ever known, made me happy. Since I lived in Sinnoh's biggest and most popular beach town and had no choice but to stay put (for now), that was a good thing.

Pretty much the only downside of Shore was the tourists, and for us, it was tourist season year-round. Wintertime meant seventy degrees at least, apart from about two weeks of fifty degree nights' midwinter. It was cold to us natives, and we wouldn't be caught dead in the water, yet others from all-throughout Sinnoh would come and relax in the sunshine and swim in the ocean even when we were convinced it was freezing. Thus, the beaches were always full and the city busy with life. This wasn't such a bad thing, however, it allowed for a lot to do on a boring day. The city was full of shops, restaurants, museums, and a big movie theater. And of course, the beaches were nice, and you can always bet that someone you know is at the beach. And that was only First Level, of course.

Sunyshore is made up of two levels. First Level, the ground level, consisted of the beaches, schools, marketplace, and all the things to go and do. Second Level was made up of glass pathways that provided easy access to the mountainside of Shore that stood on the west side. The mountainside had large flat areas where most of the houses were built to protect from possible hurricanes. Along the glass pathways were smaller shops, vendors, the gym, and it also lead to the lighthouse.

This was my home. I caused trouble here my entire life, except for family getaways to Pastoria. Otherwise, I've been stuck to Sunyshore. I'm not complaining though, since everyone dreams of living in Shore. Of course, if you've lived here your whole life, the beaches seem to lose its luster and the bustling city becomes rather bland. These beaches are the most beautiful in Sinnoh—because the sand is perfectly creamy, the seashells don't break easily, the ocean is blue as opposed to green—but I don't care too much for that. People describe these beaches as the most breathtaking thing in the world, but if you look at the same thing for so long, it doesn't appear that way anymore. The heat here is nice, I admit, and I like swimming and the sand, but that's not what keeps me here. Not at all.

As I wandered down Main Street towards Long Beach, a gust of wind blew by. It reminded everyone that a nasty storm had just blown through, even though you couldn't see the remains anywhere in the sky. It was a mystery how that happened so quickly.

I made it to the beach, and walked to my familiar volball net, and a group of my friends playing a game. Volball was a sport that involved a net and a Voltorb. The Voltorb would be the ball. Your object is to get the Voltorb on the other side of the net, hoping it would hit the ground. Sometimes the opposing team would hit the Pokémon back over to your side, and your goal was to make sure it didn't touch the ground and to get it back over the net. It sounds a bit repetitive, I know, and it is…But what makes it exciting is that sometimes Voltorb will use Spark and shock the crap out of you. Yes, it's just as hilarious as it sounds.

"Volkner!" My friend Trifler waved at me from the other side of the net. I returned the wave and grinned. Calling a timeout, he ran off the court and up to me. "Hey, joining the game?"

"Of course, give me a second." He nodded and went back to the net. I shed my tee-shirt and kicked off my old sneakers along with my socks. Sighing, I looked towards the group of volball players. They had graduated the year I was supposed to, but luckily, they weren't quick to judgement and were supportive when I was held back again and again. They understood my inability to do well in a test, study, or anything. Especially because my original graduation date was the first year my mom began to get sick. But we remained great friends throughout all the trials, and I was thankful for that.

I hurried over to the net and someone tossed me the Voltorb to serve. The Voltorb, appropriately named Spike, made a noise of excitement. I slid on my protective gloves from my pocket and looked around at my teammates and opponents. "Let's do this!" I yelled, and proceeded to serve Spike.

* * *

After our riveting game, we all sat where the tide gently rolls in and out. We laughed and made small group talk until, one by one, the group left off to go home. Soon it was just Trifler and I, so I began to gather my things and start back towards town.

"Going to see Rayne?" Trifler questioned. I turned towards him, he was grinning and raising his eyebrows, making them appear to be waving.

"First of all, you look stupid. Second of all, I see Rayne every day, yet it's somehow always a surprise to you."

"It's not a _surprise_ , in fact, it's the opposite of that! Not surprising at all. But it's just exciting."

"How is it so exciting?" I asked, as we started to walk down the coast.

"Because, one of these days, you're going to bang her." He grinned again.

"Ew?" I responded, making a face of disgust, "You know it's not like that, have some respect man."

"I know I know, she's your best friend, I get it. But give her a kiss for me, will you?"

I looked at him and pushed him over, causing him to fall to the ground. "And you're eating sand, _I get it."_ I mocked and smirked at him. At first he glared at me, but then I helped him up and we started laughing.

"Whatever, man," he chuckled, "just tell Rayne I said hi, okay? And tell her she needs to come hang out. She's been such a loner."

"Well, her dad died, what do you expect?" I asked, becoming mildly agitated.

"Yeah, a _year ago._ She's had her time to grieve and whatever, and now she needs to get back to normal."

Nodding, I said: "I agree, but I'll let her do that on her own. She needs to do what she needs to do. Especially with the stress her mom's giving her about contests and stuff. I try to be sensitive with her, and you should try that too."

"Yeah, definitely. I just miss her. Hell, we all do." Trifler sighed as we entered town. "Alright well, I'll catch you later." He waved and continued down Main. I went straight down the center of town towards Rock Beach, the smallest most secluded beach in Shore. No one ever went there, except when someone wanted to throw an alcohol-filled, teenage beach party that I never would attend. So, it was nicknamed Dirty Beach, Black Beach, No Man's Beach, or simply and most popularly, Rock Beach since boulders from the mountainside filled the shore.

The boulders were a plus, though. Or at least I thought so. The girl currently perched on one, drawing away on her notepad— _sketchpad,_ as she would correct me—agreed that boulders were, in fact, a plus. That girl was Rayne, one of the only brunettes in Sunyshore, and my best friend. And by best friend, I mean the only person who kept me sane.

"Hey," I greeted as I hopped up on the boulder next to her.

"Hey," she replied quickly, too transfixed on her sketchpad and piece of charcoal to speak to me, apparently. She was sketching the sunset.

"Another sunset? Don't you think you have enough of those?" I smirked.

"It's different every day, Volkner," annoyance filled her tone, "and do you know how hard it is to draw the sunset with only a piece of charcoal? Extremely. That's how hard." I laughed and smirked larger as I stared at her face. Her dark eyes took everything in carefully as she drew and her lips meshed together as she focused. Freckles dotted her cheeks; she hated them, but I loved them. It made her different. "You're staring again," she muttered.

"I just can't help it."

"Oh, shut up, you flirt," she rolled her eyes dramatically and then cut them at me.

She picked her sketchpad up and cocked her head at it, examining her work. The picture was expertly shaded to look like a sunset nearing the ocean, she had this way of drawing that, even though she just used charcoal, everything looked just as it should. It was mesmerizing. Drawing was Rayne's thing, to say the least. Sometimes she would paint, but drawing was what she did day in and day out. She had sketchpads upon sketchpads scattered about her room, and had filled every margin of every book she ever owned with doodles. She explained it as a tick. She had to do it, or she'd go crazy. And I believed her, especially because I've hardly ever seen her not drawing.

"You like it?" she asked, holding up her drawing proudly. Whenever she spoke of her work, a new, refining tone came about her. It was like a different Rayne was speaking, the real Rayne, one filled with creativity and passion and pure talent.

"Eh, it's okay," I grimaced, and then she shoved me so hard I fell off the boulder, nearly hitting my head. "Hey! I'm kidding!" I jumped up and laughed.

She laughed hard, and I grabbed her arm and pulled her off the rock, both of us falling on the sand. "Volkner Parley!" she exclaimed, holding back laughter, "Treating a _lady_ in such a way? What would your mother think?"

I shifted up to my feet, "You're right, milady," I bowed and gave her my hand. I yanked her up to her feet, and she giggled. "Better?" She nodded, and we laughed again. She collected her things that had fallen, and then we perched back on the rock.

"I wish I could draw a moving picture," she stated randomly.

"Why?" I chuckled.

"Because…When I finish drawing the sunset, it keeps moving. The colors change, the atmosphere changes, everything. I want my drawing to move like that, I want to continually capture life. A perfectly captured moment, continued. Perfectly drawn piece of art."

"Well, you better start working on that pipe-dream, huh?"

She slightly smiled and gave me a look. "You're just _so encouraging._ How'd I ever end up with a friend as _great as you_?" she said, sarcastically.

"I ask myself that every single day. How _did_ you get so dang lucky?"

She rolled her eyes, "Says Mister Messy Hair," she muttered.

"Someone is _sassy_ today!" I touched my messy blonde hair. "And, I consider the un-brushed look a style."

"Lazy style? Afro wannabe style? What kind of style, exactly?"

Fake gasping, I shouted: "Just crush my hopes and dreams, it's all good! And even worse…My hairstyle. What is with the soul-crushing, dream-destroying insults?!"

Rayne laughed and leaned her head on my shoulder. "Whatever, Boulder Brain."

Unfortunately, I had acquired that nickname many years ago when I first encountered Rayne. I had wandered out to Rock Beach on my own as a young, handsome lad, and saw the most beautiful eight-year-old I had ever laid eyes on sitting on a boulder, drawing her little heart out. My curious and young self had trekked over to meet the mystery girl. She said hello as I approached, she was friendly and kind and inviting. She smiled a big, nice smile and suddenly, I was so nervous that I tripped over my own feet and hit my head on the rock she sat on. I had a concussion for four days. But, Rayne and her mom brought me homemade cookies, so I ended up making the best friend I could ever want. Nonetheless, the nickname appeared and has been there ever since.

"Yeah…Can we forget the nickname I acquired when I was a young, handsome lad?" I pleaded.

"Not a chance you're shaking the nickname, _young, handsome lad_ ," she mocked.

"Hilarious," I muttered.

"I know," Rayne looked up at me and I grinned at her, wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and then we just sat there for a while, completely silent as we watched the sunset.

* * *

Suddenly I was a zombie. I couldn't feel my body. I felt cold wrapping around me like a blanket, and when I tried to breathe, nothing happened. The only thing I could feel was my heart racing, pounding, thrashing, beating out of my chest so hard I could hear it, like a rush of blood through the eardrum. I couldn't feel my face to talk, or sob, or scream. Internally, I felt nothing, like the only organ working was my heart, desperately trying to keep me alive in that moment. My mind was silenced. It was unnervingly silent. No breathing, no thoughts, no movement. I was like a zombie, maybe even less than that in that moment. Maybe I was dead, too, just for a second.

What was life? Not being able to help it, those unwanted thoughts rolled into my mind. I preferred the dreary silence, but I realized: Life was a moving picture, a perfectly captured moment, a perfectly drawn and put together piece of art. That was life.

And like the waves to the boulders on shore, it was trying to devour me.

* * *

 **Authors Note:** Welcome to The Leader's Origin, Volkner's origin story pre-gym leader! This story is near and dear to my heart, for this story is actually a reboot/rewrite of my "original" The Leader's Origin. For more information on why I'm rewriting it and starting anew, you can still view the old story on my profile. The only remaining chapter is my explanation, so go give that a read, if you'd like. If you, frankly, don't care, then don't!

Thank you so much for reading. I've been on this site for...Way too long...And I am more than excited to get back into Fanfiction. I've been poking around looking for some good and new Fanfictions to read, so if you have any suggestions shoot me a PM or review right here. Or, if you'd like me to read and review your story, let me know, and I will! Comments and critique are more than welcomed, too. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.


	2. Numb

_Chapter One: Numb_

 _Welcome to the Shadows_

The heat was stifling. I imagined this is how it would feel to curl up in an oven. Curling up in an oven sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea, and not the kind of ridiculously stupid idea that you and your buddies get on a boring summer day, but the kind of idea that I wouldn't recommend.

The air-conditioning in the school was broken, making the already small schoolroom feel like some sort of gas chamber. Birdbrain was a painful sight on this blisteringly hot day. Per norm, she was wearing a thick dress that was either green or brown, I couldn't tell, that was long-sleeved, bore big shoulder pads, and touched the floor. Although uncomfortable to look at indeed, that wasn't the painful sight. She had giant sweat stains that ran from her underarms to her elbows. Painful, yet added some necessary hilarity to the otherwise dreadful day. She had opened the windows, allowing a pleasant beach breeze in from time to time, and the ceiling fans were on high volume, but not helping the situation much at all. All they did was whip around hot air; giving you, in fact, the impression that you were curled up in an oven.

My attention turned back to the class when everyone began to hastily flip open their notebooks and rummage for a pen. I did the same, thinking we had a quiz—alas, I was bamboozled! Birdbrain started giving out the _homework assignment._ I went all year without writing down one assignment—and yes, I took pride in that fact—and now I was swindled into the act on accident! The thought of just closing my notebook and making a quick getaway crossed my mind, but I sighed in total defeat and grabbed my dull pencil.

"Volkner Parley," Birdbrain announced, with—for the first time—hints of humor in her tone, "are you _writing down the homework assignment?_ Are you sick? Should I get a doctor?" She laughed at herself, and it was the first time I had ever heard that nasally, demon-bird noise come from her thin, crusty lips.

"Not sick, ma'am, I was simply dazed and confused by your mystifying sweat stains. They're quite distracting. Antiperspirant would help keep your clothes from sticking to your skin." The class laughed, and her once humor-filled expression turned back into her normal look of sorrow and death. Her face lit up as bright as a tamato berry.

Feeling accomplished, I stood from my desk, homework assignment in-hand, and strutted over to the door. She said nothing. She didn't even look at me. That was only slightly alarming, because her all-too famous death glare was always her favored comeback. However, I dismissed the alarming thoughts, because it was all too amusing.

Outside of the school the air was so refreshing and clean against my skin. Breezes came by as I walked into town, right on cue, and pushed my sweaty hair from my face. Fyn ran up beside me, grinning and laughing, "Volkner! That was awesome! I had never seen Miss Karp look so embarrassed!" he caught his breath, and his laughter stopped, "But I also have never seen her look so angry," he sounded concerned.

Smirking, I chuckled, "I know! It's amazing! And you know, her name, _Karp,_ is so incorrect. She shouldn't have the name of a fish, not with her beak-like nose and chirp-like voice. No, squawk-like voice. Should be Miss Pidgey…No, that's an insult to Pidgey's…"

He laughed and his worried expression faded away, just like I hoped for. I roughed up his dark blonde hair, darker than mine; just like Dad's, and he yelled "Stop it!" in-between giggles. I poked his side and he laughed some more, and then attempted to fix his usually neat hair.

"Why are you always so concerned about your hair?" I asked, laughing at his failed attempt to get his thick locks back in place.

"I could be on my way to a hot date, you never know!" he retorted, and I busted out laughing. He ran off, yelling something about his "totally real" hot date, and I sighed as my laughter began to die down. My Little Bro was pretty much the best, whenever he wasn't being completely annoying.

Once I got to the beach, I walked straight past everyone enjoying themselves and towards where the sand meets grass. Out there, past the town, there was a perfect trail that led out into the woods. From there, I could easily navigate to my favorite place. Until I reached the path, I could make my way to a paved road that led to the base of the mountainside and up to where all the houses sat. I could easily see my house from the road. It was one of the biggest, and sat in plain sight when most houses were tucked in the mountain. My house was old, I could see the chimney that was missing bricks, and I could also see Fyn returning home, _clearly_ on a hot date. Unless he's dating our sister, it's safe to assume he was just going to do some homework and then read until he falls asleep. Normal Fyn things.

As I got farther away, I passed the Sunyshore's Contest Hall and adjoining Contest Academy. Nothing interesting ever happened there. Contests were pointless, and were all for showmanship and not skill. But contests were a big deal in Sinnoh, and if you do well, you could make decent money. Contests happened all the time around Sinnoh, or at least that's what I'm told by Rayne, who is forced to attend the Contest Academy of Hell.

Rayne once attended Trainer School with me when we were younger, but she hated it. She didn't like the idea of making Pokémon fight. She enjoyed the history, literature, art and even math classes; but she knew she could learn those things at home, without the addition of training and battles. So, her parents decided to pull her out. Her mother, who works at the contest Academy, tried to coax her into enrolling, but Rayne protested. In her mind, dressing up Pokémon for show was just as bad as making them fight. Her father backed her up, and kept her from enrolling. She spent two years out of school, until she was fourteen, and worked for a seamstress on Second Level. She loved making and repairing clothes, and had enough free-time to enhance her own artistic talent, she even continued her studies independently with private tutors, and she was happy. She was the happiest I had ever seen her. She was free. Then her dad died, and to make matters worse, her mother forced her to enroll in Sunyshore Contest Academy. She says that it is hell. She spends her days forced to play dress-up, learning how to cut hair and put makeup on Pokémon and partake in Contests that she always loses. However, she never fails to try her best, despite the circumstances.

She's the strongest person I've ever known, and I don't let her forget that.

Finally, I reached the woods and began my trek through the tall-grass. Deep in the woods stood a small shack once used as a hunting cabin, assumedly before hunting was made illegal by former Champion Rocky. Once Lea became Champion, he made hunting legal once again, but the cabin hasn't been used in ages.

Hunting Pokémon seems utterly ridiculous to me. I was raised completely vegetarian, thanks to my mom, so I've never eaten Pokémon meat in my life. However, more and more people in Shore are beginning to hunt and fish. There are always meats being sold in the marketplace, especially fish. I don't understand the appeal. Pokémon are companions, not food.

However, this once hunting cabin had been turned into my tech shack. I approached the door and said, "Open." After a mechanical _click,_ the door opened and I stepped in. The door automatically shut behind me. I reached up and pulled a thick string, and a lantern and matches were pulled from the shelves across the room and over to me. I connected many strings to different items for easy (or lazy) access to what I needed. I quickly lit the lamp and peered around the room. Everything looked correct. The far wall had my makeshift shelves, filled with tools and electrical supplies, and a makeshift bunk filled with random pillows and blankets I could sneak from the house over to here. On the other side, I had a desk and a cabinet that I'm sure is meant for guns, but I used it strictly for snacks.

"Pikachu?" I called, wondering where my little buddy had gotten to. I saw two long ears followed by two sleepy eyes pop from a hole carved into a cardboard box, his makeshift house. He sprung from the box and up into my arms. "Hey, Buddy," I greeted, and scratched the Pokémon's neck. He jumped out of my arms and stood up on his hind legs, staring at me expectantly. "Oh, right," I said, and pulled a bag out of my pocket. "Two honey-soaked biscuits, just for you!" I handed him the biscuits, and he began devouring the food. He had it down in less than a minute, and then stared at me for more food. I laughed and reached back into the bag and handed him my leftovers from lunch, one-fourth of a spinach wrap that had gotten too soggy in salad dressing for my liking. However, it was perfect for Pika.

When I first discovered this place, it was abandoned and dirty. It's still very dirty, but it's my dirty now. Slowly I fixed it up and made it my place to work on my tech in peace. To this day, my parents don't know that my second home is a shack, or that I'm harboring an illegal Pikachu. Caught Pokémon weren't supposed to be allowed out of their Pokéballs unless they were battling or preforming tasks. But Pikachu was my buddy, and he wouldn't hurt anyone.

One of the first times I was in the shack, while the windows were still broken or missing completely, Pikachu poked his head through a window and before I knew it, he was on my lap attempting to eat my sandwich. This surprised me, mainly because all my life I was told that Pokémon were dangerous, and that's why some cities in Sinnoh are protected by electric fences or giant two-story walls. But Pikachu made me think that was a lie. Pokémon are meant to be companions, and once caught, they're bound to you for life. In Trainer School, I learned that sometimes Pokémon can be as stubborn as humans and will refuse to listen, but after enough training and maybe a few tricks, they will imprint and listen to commands effortlessly. I caught Pikachu as soon as I could get my hands on a Pokéball, and he imprinted immediately. Pikachu changed my outlook on the companionships of Pokémon, something that the rest of Sinnoh seriously needs.

Lea has been the Champion for my entire life. He helped mold a different view of Pokémon by claiming that they're dangerous, and reporting all these stories about attacks and awful events. Some were proven true, but the more outrageous stories were never proven to be so. His motive behind this was quite unknown. It successfully scared a lot of people from training, and there haven't been many trainers challenging gyms. Or if they do, they challenge one or two and then quit. But there hasn't been a challenger for a few years, which isn't too odd. Most Trainer School graduates go on to get normal jobs. Trainer School teaches basic education alongside of Pokémon fundamentals, but not everyone who attends has aspiration to become a trainer. When you live in a world filled with mystical beasts, you must learn how to hone them for many reasons.

However, molding a new view on Pokémon wasn't the only thing Lea affected during his reign. He was from Hearthome, and once he became the Champion of Sinnoh he began directing a lot of our regions money to Hearthome, which eventually spread out to Jubilife, and they became obnoxiously prosperous in a short time. Soon they linked together, forming the Golden Cities, and became too expensive and exclusive for the rest of Sinnoh. They have formed their own culture surrounded by contests and high-class standards. Hearthome is completely exclusive to the outside world, whereas Jubilife is still accessible. Rayne has visited the cities before and told me horror stories of giant, colorful wigs, huge dresses, rude people and fake French-mix accents.

Pikachu soon finished his meal and leapt up on my lap. I grabbed the radio I had made fromm things I found at the dump, my usual place to get parts, and tuned it to Jubilife Radio. Soft music was playing, with occasional static, and I moved my attention to my current project: A radon detector. I assumed that since we have an unusual amount of Electric Types, we must have some sort of abundance of gasses or something here in Shore. I could be wrong, I typically am. But that's why I wanted to construct my detector. Although it's difficult when you have little money, and little resources for weird parts.

Reaching up, I pulled on more strings, and pliers, scissors, and a screwdriver fell into my hand. I grabbed the pliers and continued to mess with my project. That's all I ever did with any of my projects, I messed with them until they worked.

"Volkner?" The voice startled me, but it was only Rayne. She knocked on the door. "Open up! I baked cookies!"

"Open," I said, and the door swung open. "Cookies!" I exclaimed, "…and Rayne!"

She rolled her eyes, "Naturally, you're more excited about the cookies. As you should be, because I made your favorite. Chocolate chip. With extra chocolate chips…It's basically, a chocolate chip with some dough."

I grinned, "Rayne, you're an angel."

She smiled and brushed off her shoulders, "I know," she stated. She handed me the bag, and I ripped it open and stuffed a soft, warm cookie in my mouth.

"Oh my Arceus, you have outdone yourself."

"Bow to me, for I am a cookie-baking queen," she said, in her most regal voice. Pikachu quickly left my lap to greet Rayne. He may have liked me, but he loved Rayne. She picked him up and sat on my desk. "Here," she nudged her satchel off her shoulder, "take my bag and look at my newest drawing." I pulled the bag from her arm and pulled out the sketchbook. I flipped through the many pages filled with charcoal, colored pencil, and I'm sure other mediums that I didn't know of, to the newest page. It was a perfectly drawn picture of the moon, with a woman's face expertly added in.

"Breathtaking, per-usual," I tried to say with my mouth full of gooey cookie.

"The moon was right outside my window last night, beckoning me to draw it!" The enthusiasm in her voice made me smile. "It only took me, like, five minutes, if even!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"Because I saw the moon last night, and there was no lady's face in it, so your story does not check out," I put my radon detector up against her arm. "Ah, yes, my lie detector detects lies! Falsities! Untruths! You have lied under oath, you are going to jail, Miss Jewel!"

She smiled and blinked at me. "You are so annoying. Anyways, I started drawing my own little comic featuring my Flaffy. I make him fight crime in a world filled with only Pokémon, and—why are you looking at me like that?" Her eyebrows drew together, and her brown eyes looked at me inquisitively.

"It's just…You. You make me happy. I love listening to you talk about what you love."

She rolled her eyes, acting like she was annoyed at my affection. But I knew better than that. She turned away, blushing, and made her way over to my makeshift bunk-bed. She crawled in, Pikachu in-arm, and adjusted until she was comfortable. She sighed, "Today sucked," she announced.

"And why's that?" I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, and put my hand on my chin, pretending to stroke the beard I didn't have, ready to listen. She ignored this.

"Well, today we had stupid rehearsals at the Academy of Sucking a Lot, where I got a really bad grade for poor participation that my mom is totally gonna find out about and freak about…Which is lovely, because in the eyes of my mom, I do everything wrong anyways so bad grades do not help. I'm always compared to Rayven, who excelled at contests and loved them and now is making it big, just like Mom did at her age, and I get zero credit and it's just, it's just, awful! Oh," she continued before I could speak, "speaking of my mom…She's _seeing_ someone…" she spoke quickly, a sign she was getting worked up.

"What do you mean?" Concern filled my tone, I hated hearing that Rayne had a bad day, or distress, or anything slightly bad, really. She was the only person I felt that way for.

"She's _seeing_ someone else, someone who isn't my dad!" she yelled, clearly crying.

"What?! Who?"

"Some contest guy! I don't know. She's been spending all her time with him lately. She hasn't come out and said it, but she said she wants to invite him to dinner sometime soon and I just…I just know what that means." She covered her face with her hands. I played with the pliers in my hands, searching for something to say to her, but I didn't think of anything good.

"I'm sorry, Rayne."

"It's not your fault…But…I just…"

"I know," I began to say, but she cut me off.

"No, you don't," she snapped, her tone full of annoyance and dismissal. I wanted to protest, but she continued: "How can you be married to someone for a long time, have kids with that person, and then when they unexpectedly pass away, go _see_ someone else?!"

"Well, it's been a year, maybe she's just trying to move on," I shrugged, mostly to myself for not having anything else to say.

She sighed angrily. "You don't understand," she whimpered.

I stood up. "No, but I'm trying," I said softly. I began to step towards her.

"You're not trying very hard," she murmured.

I was halfway over to her, "I'm sorry, I don't—" She sat up quickly, spooking Pikachu, and I froze.

"I just wish I had someone to talk to…" she trailed off, her voice soft and, frankly, weak.

"Ouch, Rayne. I'm clearly not someone to you."

"No, no, that's not what I…Not what I meant…Forget it," she got up and out of the bed. She leaned against the wall. I sat back down, defeated, and looked away. Ever since she suffered the loss of her father, she was so hesitant to talk to me and say everything on her mind. Before, we were as close as it got. We told each other everything. Now, I hardly know what she's thinking, when I used to be able to finish her sentences.

"Maybe one day I'll be able to draw my moving picture," she said, quietly. Tears were running down her face. I couldn't stand it. I stood up and walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her, and nestled my face in her hair. Her hair smelled like green apples. It always smelled like green apples. "Dreams are such a waste, aren't they? We're all going to die, sooner or later, right? And then our lives are just…Past."

I lifted my face, and she turned and looked at me. I noted the darkness her eyes held. Once, her eyes were bright and happy.

Frowning, I replied, "No, Rayne. You're wrong. Don't you ever say that again." I grabbed her face and examined it. "Are you sick? You seem to have a case of the doom and gloom. Do I need to poke you with my anti-gloom pliers again?"

A smile tugged on her mouth. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just," she cleared her throat and tried a Golden City accent, " _positively mad."_

"They don't sound quite as elegant as you," I laughed.

She laughed, "Yeah, I haven't got the accent down quite yet. Next time I'm forced to go to Hearthome, I'll sound just like Fantina."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she rolled her eyes, "she still isn't your celebrity crush, is she?" Rayne questioned.

"Well…I mean…She's a great gym leader…"

She punched my arm, "Sicko. She's like, thirteen or something. Youngest gym leader ever, or something, remember?"

"That's only two years younger than me! I have a chance!"

She groaned, "You are twisted, Volkner Parley."

"I am also _totally kidding,_ Rayne Jewel. And you are so jealous right now."

She gasped and pushed my arms away. "So _not."_ We laughed, and I wrapped my arms back around her and she huffed defeatedly, but turned and hugged me. "I think I should go home, I'm going to have to face my mother's wrath sooner or later so it might as well be sooner."

Nodding, we broke the hug and I told her I would walk her home. We said goodbye to Pika, I turned out the lantern, and we left.

* * *

Elyse leapt into my arms as I neared the house. "Volk!" She squealed excitedly. I hugged my little sister against my chest. She was so lightweight that I easily spun her around and held her upside down. Her light blonde hair, twisted into a braid, swung down and almost touched the ground. She giggled, "Pick me up pick me up!"

Per her request, I picked her up, only to bombard her with tickles. "Put me down put me down put me down!" she yelled through laughter. I sat her down gently, and she stuck her tongue out at me, then busted out in laughter once again. Her laughter was contagious, so young and bubbly. After she laughed too hard, she would get uncontrollable hiccups. She was easily the cutest and smartest five-year-old in existence.

Margie, my older sister, sat outside in the yard, watching over Elyse most likely. She looked tired. Her hair was only half in a bun, and the rest was sticking to the side of her face with sweat. She looked well over her age—which was only seventeen—and looked like some middle-aged housewife. "How's it going, Gie?" I asked.

She took a large breath, and I knew a long explanation was coming. "Well, Aunt Mary is driving me crazy. She keeps yelling at Elyse so I had to take her outside, and she has all this energy she won't burn off no matter how many times she sprints around the house. Mom has been sick all day, like normal, and hasn't left her bed. Dad worked late and just got home, which by the way, your teacher stopped by today."

That was odd. "Oh yeah? Why?"

She scoffed, "Don't sound so amused, Volkner, this is serious. She threatened to fail you. Again."

I laughed, "Fail me? Really?"

She gave me a disappointed look. "Oh my gosh do not laugh. The last thing we need is you going to TS for another year again." Margie used "we" statements now to speak for the family, proving that she was the lady of the house since Mom became so ill. Aunt Mary thinks she is, but it's honestly Margie. "You were apparently disrespectful in class today."

"No, I wasn't," I lied.

"Yeah well I asked Fyn and he said you were," she retorted.

"Dang it Fyn," I said under my breath, "Oh yeah, _that._ Yeah that happened." Shrugging, I started walking towards the front door.

" _Volkner,_ " Margie scolded, "Dad's not going to be very happy."

"There's a simple solution to that, Sister Gie, we don't tell him."

"That's fine, but she left a handwritten note for him that he already read so…"

I stopped walking and turned back around. "Really? You couldn't freaking cover for me?"

" _Again?_ Seriously? The amount of times I've covered for you is ridiculous! This seemed a little too serious for me to ignore, since she threatened to fail you! I'm sorry, but, I had to."

Nodding, I walked into the house. I didn't blame my sister, she had covered for me a lot, but her motherly instincts got the best of her today. But I can't blame her for that, either. As soon as she graduated Trainer School, Mom got sick and Margie had to stay home and help raise the younger kids. She couldn't live her own life, and she still can't. She was forced to grow up and, frankly, become a mother.

The foyer of my house smelled like fresh flowers. Aunt Mary loved to steal flowers from the neighbors' gardens and keep them in the house, she claimed that it livened up the place. From the foyer was the living room in the front with large bay windows, my parents' bedroom off to the side, the staircase leading upstairs, and the dining room in the back. I could see my father seated at the large, wooden dining room table, seemingly waiting for me.

My dad wasn't an intimidating man. He rarely got mad or yelled—I think; I mean, I've never seen him successfully convey an emotion so far. The last time I saw him attempt to convey emotion is when my sister Cirla left home to become a trainer. She left hastily, without explaining why or where she was going. In the years she's been away, we received all of three letters. The last one, received about three years ago, explained that she was headed to Hoenn to pursue training there. I wasn't too affected, her and I weren't very close. My parents were crushed. Their oldest daughter abandoned them.

So, I entered the dining room and took the seat across from my dad. His face was angled exactly like mine, except somehow…Stronger-looking, and now, stern. I've only seen that look a few times.

"Your teacher came by when I was at work. Your sister gave me the note she left, and she said that you were, and I quote, _atrociously_ disrespectful and mocked her in front of the entire class, which should not, under any circumstances, be tolerated. She says that you appear to only be trying when doing your homework, which is practically flawless, and that's the _only_ reason she's not failing you right now. She's letting you off with a warning. Thus, so am I." He smiled. His smile was always so genuine, maybe that's why he's not an intimidating man. I smiled back, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dad," I replied.

"But don't let it happen again, okay? She's your teacher, Son," he looked at me firmly.

"I understand, and it won't, I promise," I assured him.

With that, he stood and walked away. He wasn't one to sit and talk. He went to work, and then came home and tended to whatever needed his attention, and then sat and watched TV and usually fell asleep on the couch. He was more like, passing comments and nodding replies kind of guy. He never gave lectures or disciplined unless it was highly necessarily, and he believed that showing us he loved us was him going to work every day and putting food on the table. That was all fine and good, I loved the guy, and it was times like these that I could tell he was trying his best at being a father. That's what mattered.

Aunt Mary made her way into the kitchen to start dinner. She was an okay cook, but I preferred my mom. Mom's meals were delicious and perfect and gooey with cheese, unlike the dry, sometimes tasteless stuff Mary makes. But Mom was too sick to cook most of the time. She would be bedridden with terrible headaches for days. Usually they were so painful that she would pull out her own hair to somehow ease the pain. It made my gut hurt with sadness, because she was my mom, and Mom was the best.

She wasn't a delicate woman. She was tough, and until she became too sick to say otherwise, she was independent. She always had a smile on her face, and never complained about anything. She had a good-spirit about everything, including her odd jobs she would pick up to help the family out. She knew how to be funny. She knew how to make a good joke. We had the same sarcastic humor, and we could make each other laugh. Those are some of my favorite memories.

Aunt Mary was nothing like her sister. She was cold and serious. And old. I avoided her like the plague, because she hated me. Well, she hated all men, since both of her husband's left her. But I couldn't complain too much, she was quite selfless for moving in with us to help and take care of Mom. If she loved anyone in this entire world, she loved Mom to death. Practically raised her, I think, so it makes sense.

While waiting for dinner, I sat with Dad and Fyn and watched aimless TV. Eventually, my oldest brother Perry and his wife arrived, and we all went into the dining room to eat. Aunt Mary ate dinner with Mom tonight in her bed, so the dining room table was a little less cold, but we had to sit there while Dad and Perry discussed nothing but their work for a half hour. Afterwards, I helped Margie with the dishes, or more accurately, I made a big mess and she did the dishes. At least I made her laugh.

It had gotten late, but I hoped that Mom would still be awake. I cracked open her door. I could hear her breathe deeply. "Mom?" I whispered into the dark room. She didn't even stir. She needed her rest, and I didn't want to bother her. I closed the door, and headed upstairs.

* * *

The next morning, I took a quick shower before heading down to the kitchen. Aunt Mary and Elyse were there, fixing breakfast, and Fyn was sitting in the living room reading, like the good little nerd he is.

"Volkner," Aunt Mary said. Her voice was deep and crackly, and my name rolled off her tongue in a weird way that made me shutter.

"Yeah?"

She made a sound in her throat that I assume was supposed to be a sound of annoyance—she hated the word 'yeah'—then said: "Your parents were at the Center last night. Your mom had quite the episode, apparently. The doctor actually was helpful this time, however." I froze. My mom was at the Center. This was getting more and more serious. "She…Her tumor, in her head, has grown much larger. Now, this isn't some sort of _joke,_ " she said it as if I was about to start laughing—who would start laughing? —or like I would try to turn it into a joke, "it's very serious."

Elyse, with a look of terror on her face, hung onto every word Aunt Mary had said. "Is Mommy going to be okay?" Tears swam in her eyes.

"Well, Elyse, frankly—"

"Mommy's going to be fine, Ely," I cut Mary off and patted Elyse's head. She started to cry, so I picked her up and cradled her in my arms, just like I did the day she was born. "Everything will be okay," I cooed. Tears flowed from her eyes and down her little cheeks. I carried her over to Mom's room and maneuvered my hand to open the door while never letting Ely go. Mom lifted her head. She looked exhausted, and held a washcloth to her forehead. I sat Elyse on the bed with her, and Elyse immediately calmed. She curled up next to Mom. I stood in the doorway for a minute, watching them hug and listening to my mom whisper to Elyse about much she loved her. Elyse looked a lot like our mom. I hoped that, someday, she would grow up to be just like Mom, too.

* * *

She didn't get better, I was told, only worse. In her last few weeks she wouldn't let anyone except Aunt Mary and Dad in her room. The only time I saw her was when I would glance in while she was sleeping. She went to the beach with Dad a few times—as much as she could, I was told—just to get fresh air before her inevitable death.

It went by so fast. A part of me wishes that she didn't isolate herself from her children, so we could have…Said goodbye, and that we love her, or _something…_ But Aunt Mary said that she wasn't herself in her last days. She was angry, and hateful, and _not_ Mom. She didn't want us to see her like that. She wanted our last memories to be good. They were.

My emotions were broken, I think. I couldn't _feel_ anything. I was just numb.


	3. Delicate

_Chapter Two: Delicate_

 _Welcome to the Shadows_

The day of her funeral was bright, and hot. Standing at her burial was more excruciating than it should have been due to the heat, especially because I had to wear my dad's old tux. The house was warm, too, even with every air-conditioner running full-blast. It wasn't like the movies. It didn't rain. It was beautiful. I hated it.

The burial was immediate family only, so me and my posse of siblings accompanied Mary and Dad out to the old family gravesite, far in the woods. She was buried in a plot next to her parents, as she wanted. It was frightening, though, because her headstone was just so new-looking next to all the old ones. My dad's name was carved into the stone as well, which was hard to look at. It was a realization that, someday, both will be in the plot together. "A love eternal," it read. I imagine that was hard to look at for Dad as well. Or, maybe, comforting, in a twisted way. He would be with his wife again. Of course, that meant his death. Although, death is inevitable anyway.

We didn't watch the actual burial, thankfully. That would have been traumatizing for Elyse. Who am I kidding? That would have been traumatizing for me. Instead, we listened to a pastor preach about the afterlife, and how we should celebrate the prosperous life Mom had, not her tragic death.

Afterwards, we went home, and were greeted by family and friends. Everyone brought a plethora of food and flowers. So many flowers. Mary busied herself by putting all the food and flowers away. I learned something about Aunt Mary that day, her and Mom had one thing in common: Neither were delicate. She didn't shed a single tear, and put on a brave face for us kids.

Margie kept Elyse well-occupied with her full attention, and somehow managed to wear a fake smile to speak to these family and friends. Fyn wouldn't leave Dad's side. He stood with Dad and Perry and greeted everyone coming into the house, like he was a grownup. Perry, of course, seemed more like the father of the family today, barking commands and making sure everything for the funeral was coordinated.

Death is weird. Many of these family members, who I had never met or hadn't seen in years, showed up and were sobbing, like it was _their_ tragedy. I knew that they didn't know Mom, or cared enough to see her regularly; most didn't even know she was sick. Yet, somehow, they were "heartbroken" and "their lives will never be the same." Bull shit, if you ask me.

This was _my_ tragedy, Elyse's tragedy, Margie's, Fyn's, Mary's—not theirs.

It seemed like the only person who understood that was Rayne. She stuck by my side as I hid in the living room, trying to avoid talking to these strangers. She would rub my back and hold my hand as someone came up to ask how I was doing, or hug me, or just sob and tell me how much they love and miss my mom.

When my dad had to speak, he stood proudly in the center of the foyer, next to a table that held an enlarged picture of Mom's obituary and a bouquet of yellow lilies; they were her favorite. The obituary had a grainy, color-drained picture of my mom on her wedding day on it, and it read:

 _Meredith Emily Coldbroom/Parley: Mother of Perry, Cirla, Margie, Volkner, Fyn and Elyse; sister of Mary Elyse and Mason Fyn Coldbroom; wife of Volton Parley. Great spirit with a beautiful smile._

Aunt Mary wrote it. I hated it. She said that she needed to name Mom's family, so that friends could be aware, but I would have rather talked about Mom's oddly adventurous lifestyle and amazing personality.

"I already miss My Emma dearly," Dad began, "she was the best mother that I could ever hope for, and the best wife. She's the only woman I have ever, and will ever, love. I will remember her smile, tender heart, compassion, rowdy sense of humor"—a few people slightly laughed through tears— "and most importantly, everything she has taught me through the years. She taught me to be loving and selfless. She taught me how to have fun, even through hard times. She taught me that it was okay to laugh during bad situations. She taught me to never give up on myself, because she never gave up on me. Even in her final days. She taught me so much more, because she viewed the world through a scope all her own. Emily was the best person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I will remember all her teachings for the rest of my life, and I encourage my kids, and everyone, to do the same. Thank you everyone for all your love and support today, let's remember Emily not as she was in her final moments, but as she was for her whole life, and— "he left the room and headed for the kitchen, clearly choking up. Perry and Fyn followed him, and the group in the foyer all turned and began muttering to one another.

Seeing my dad choke up was it for me. I couldn't suppress tears any longer. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get out of this crowded house. I didn't want to stare at this low-quality, old picture of my mom anymore. My house reeked of so many smells from the assortments of food and flowers, it made me gag. I could hear Elyse screaming upstairs, and Mary's footsteps as she ascended the staircase to tend to her. I couldn't take this anymore. I wanted to sprint out and as far away as I possibly could have.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Rayne grabbed my hand. She laced her delicate fingers around mine, which I didn't even notice were curled into a fist. I looked at her, she was gazing at me, her face filled with concern. She wore makeup today, unusual for her. I assume her mom made her. She probably told her she would look better with it. She didn't, but of course, she didn't look bad at all. Her cheekbones seemed more defined, her eyelashes were curled, and her lips were unnaturally plump and glossy. Her hand was cold; or maybe that was just how it felt, since mine were sweaty. I could feel a callus on her hand, right where the pen has rubbed her skin where she grips and holds on to it for dear life while drawing. Her hand seemed so small while it was in mine, and her palm so soft. Instantly I was calmed.

She glanced away and quickly let go of my hand, focused on something else. I looked, and a man was heading towards us. The first thing I noticed was his large, muscled arms. His shirt barely fit over his shoulders. Then I noticed he was wearing a uniform. It took me a second, but then I recognized it. He was wearing a guardsmen uniform, he was a Guard of Lea.

"Are you Fyn, or…?" he asked, his voice deep.

"Ah, no," I cleared my throat, my voice was shaky, "I'm Volkner," he looked confused, "Fyn's older brother," I clarified.

"Oh, alright, I'm, uh, Mason," he was tense and awkward, and nodded like he was agreeing with himself. "Coldbroom," he quickly added, "Mason Fyn Coldbroom, your mom's brother."

Not knowing what to say, I nodded. This gave him the impression that I knew who he was, which I didn't apart from pictures of when he was a child.

Relief washed over his face. "I heard about her death from Mary, who somehow tracked down my location and sent me a note, with her obituary. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that she had so many kids, either!" he laughed and paused awkwardly, "When I lived here, she only had Perry and Cirla. We were really close growing up, even though I'm like, decades younger than her. My parents 'oh shit' child," he laughed again, and then nervously continued, "I actually spent most of my childhood weekends right here in this house, spending time with Em and Volt." I nodded, not knowing what to say. "Um, but then Dad passed away, and Mom dragged me off to Veilstone. And then, she passed away when I was thirteen—drugs and alcohol and stuff—and I was left to fend for myself…" he trailed off, "I probably shouldn't have said all that, I'm just…I…"

Past him, I saw Fyn and Dad walk out of the kitchen. "There," I quickly said, and pointed to Fyn. He followed my finger, but appeared confused. "Fyn, that's Fyn," I added.

"Oh, yeah! I figure I should meet the nephew named after me," he nervously laughed, and wandered towards them. Dad seemingly recognized him, and gave him a hug. I grabbed Rayne's hand and led her closer.

"Where have you _been_ all these years?" My dad asked him.

"I, uh, I enrolled in the guards!" Mason pointed to his uniform.

"So, what, you couldn't come visit?" Dad questioned.

"I don't get much time off, Sir," Mason laughed.

"He's weird," Rayne whispered to me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I've never, ever met him before. Apparently my grandmother went a little nuts when her husband passed away, and wanted nothing to do with the family except, him. But you know what's just sad?"

"What?"

"He shows up, but Cirla doesn't…She doesn't even know, wherever she is, that her mother has passed away," I gulped.

"You know what?" she said, and I looked at her, "Let's get out of here."

* * *

We laid on the beach together, talking about death, mostly. It seemed appropriate. But it wasn't sad. It felt natural, it felt okay.

"I mean, it doesn't get better," she said, and laughed, despite everything.

"Do you know how many times I heard _time heals all wounds_ today?" I retorted.

She laughed again, "Yes, actually. One, because I was with you, and two, because that's been my life for a year now. I feel like my mom believes all that crap, but I have a harder time…Because time _doesn't_ heal all wounds. Time just makes them easier to look at."

* * *

Birdbrain squawked at the top of the class, desperately trying to review weeks' worth of information for a test only _three days away,_ as she continually repeated. I began to zone out, thinking about the peanut pancakes I ate for breakfast, when I heard my name called.

"Yes, ma'am?" My voice sounded as sweet as an angel.

"You didn't turn in your essay, the one on Water Type's. Now isn't the time to slack off! The test is—"

"Only three days away," I interjected, and she huffed.

"Indeed. You're hanging on by a thread, Parley. I've allowed your slip-ups for the past month, you know why," she meant since my mom's death, "but it has been a whole month, you're getting behind and you need to pass this exam."

"Why, Miss Karp, don't want me in your class for another year?" I smiled.

"Just do your homework, and I need your essay by tomorrow," she grumbled.

Once she was focused back on lecturing, I looked at Fyn. I could almost see the sweat on his forehead as he refused to meet my eyes. "So…" I whispered, "I haven't been doing my homework for a month?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, have you?"

Sighing, I responded, "Fyn, you've been doing my homework all year and you've never had a problem with it. Why did you stop, and why didn't you give me a heads up?"

"Maybe because I decided you needed to be responsible for yourself," he spat through gritted teeth.

" _Really?_ Did you decide, or did Perry decide? 'Cause, that sounds a hell of a lot like Perry."

"Maybe," he whispered, and turned his head.

"Well then, I guess I'll be writing that essay tonight."

"Guess so," he attempted to sound conniving, but it came out unconvincing.

"This is like…An epic betrayal. I've been betrayed. Brotherhood, blood betrayal!"

He rolled his eyes dramatically and pushed his glasses up on his face, "I'm just tired of being used, alright?"

"You weren't being _used,_ per say," said I, "don't make it sound so dirty."

"Whatever you want to call it, or not call it, I'm tired of it. You want to pass? Do it yourself."

"Fine," I rumbled and clenched my jaw. "You are cruel, Little Bro, you and Perry both. And, you're a dork. Dorky and cruel… _Dorkruel…"_

He slightly smiled, but fought it back. "You think _I'm_ the dork here?" he whispered. I poked him and quietly laughed. I couldn't stay mad at him.

After school, I went out to the shack to write my paper. Water Types weren't my favorite, Electric Types were by far, but I had enough head-knowledge to pump out a paper. Pikachu sat in my lap, watching me quickly write, and soon I had completely lost track of time. I looked up at my clock, and it was nearly eight. Sunset, when I usually went and saw Rayne.

Hustling out to Rock Beach, my best friend was there, perched on her rock. She didn't notice me, and probably didn't notice that I was late, either, since she was so busy drawing.

"You're late," she mused.

Or, maybe she would notice. I sat next to her and peeked at her sketchpad. Surprisingly, she had drawn me. I examined the paper. It was a close view of my face. All my facial features were detailed, my colorless hair was falling elegantly down into my face, my eyebrows turned down, and my lips were pressed together. Overall, I looked stern. I relaxed my face, realizing that I probably looked like that right now.

"This is one handsome devil right there," I said, "that's the most beautiful drawing you've ever done."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "You're nuts…But you like it?"

"Like it? I love it! Looks just like me, except, not quite as handsome. Hard to capture all of _this,_ " I motioned to myself.

Ignoring me, she said, "All that's left is coloring in your blue eyes, and of course, the sandy hair."

"I prefer, Sandy Locks of Love, _actually._ "

"Whatever," she waved me off, "and then, this will be done! Do you want it? You know, to tape on your ceiling above your bed, so you can stare at your _sandy locks of love_ before you fall asleep."

"Tempting, but if I take it, what will you have to stare at while I'm not around?" I asked.

"Hm, good point," she laughed, and then gave me a look, "but I'll pass." She looked back at her sketchpad, just in time for a droplet of water to splash on it.

"Looks like it's going to downpour," I noted, "want to head back to the shack?"

She said yes, and we started heading towards my small sanctuary. On the way, it began pouring, and we were sprinting through the rain, laughing and screaming until we were safely inside the shack. Raindrops were still running down my face as I squeezed the water from my shirt.

"No! Your locks of love!" Rayne laughed, as she wrapped up in my blanket. "Although, the wet look is good for you, makes your hair less puffy and messy."

"Quick! Draw fast, because this is the only time my hair will look like this," I joked, and we laughed.

Thunder boomed over the shack, and Rayne cautiously looked around. "Is it safe here?" she wondered.

"Yeah, we'll be perfectly fine! I've been in here plenty while it's rained. Besides, we can't go back to my house…Kinda awkward with Fyn, and I'm sure Perry will have a few things to say…" I trailed off.

"Can't go to mine, either," she added, "Mom's _friend_ is visiting." She rolled her eyes. "You know, Fyn came to my house today to talk to me about you and the homework situation."

"What did he say?" I asked, as I relaxed in my chair, also wearing a blanket.

"He asked me if I would talk to you to get you to apologize, and, in his words, turn your life around."

Rolling my eyes, I retorted: "That's Perry speaking through him. Fyn never minded the extra work before. He knew that I was learning just fine enough because I've been passing the exams. I think he even _liked_ the extra work! Perry is something else. He's not our dad!"

"This isn't about Perry," she started.

"Exactly!"

"It's about Fyn, and his feelings are hurt. Maybe you _should_ apologize, and lighten up a little," she smiled gently.

"How would you understand, Rayne? You don't have any brothers!" I snapped.

"So? I'm a younger sibling. I know what it's like to have my feelings hurt by the person you want approval from most. Your role model, the person you ask for advice…Especially after faced with a tragedy…He's trying to adjust, Volk."

Sighing, I told her I would apologize, and then asked her to read my essay. She read through it, giving me her critique, and I jotted her advice down. _How could I get through this without her?_ I thought, and smiled. Her face was dimly lit by the lantern as she focused on the paper. Her eyes were seemingly glowing from the flickering. She aimlessly petted Pikachu as she read. Her brown hair sprawled across her shoulders, mostly dry by now, but it appeared almost red in the glow. "Rayne," her focused stare left as she lifted her head to look at me, "I couldn't get through this without you."

"Get through what?" she beamed.

At first, I thought I meant the essay, but I meant much more. "Everything, really," I answered, "Life in general. Always being my shoulder to lean on, the person I can tell anything to, the one who understands me…But especially, with my mom. Dealing with the adjustment, crazy Aunt Mary, all of my friends acting weird to me now…Everything!"

She chuckled, "I know what you mean," was all she said, but her face filled up with happiness. That told me enough. That told me she was thankful.

"I love you," I blurted, taking myself by surprise. Although, those three words had been implied in what I've said before, I had never verbalized them quite like that. Emotion spread through my chest, like a water balloon bursting inside my ribcage. I liked it.

She froze for a moment, blushing, and then smiled. She didn't say it back. But that's okay. She didn't need to say it, all I wanted was for her to hear it.


End file.
